Lessons from a Rescue Dog
A reflection on the life and times of Joepie.
For seven years, Joepie was by my side. My climbing friends referred to her as “the mountain potato” or “the flying sausage” because she was small, round, and psyched. With her giant ears and auburn fur, she enthusiastically charged up the arduous routes to the climbing crags. Nothing could curb her joy, regardless of her rough start in life.
Joepie’s Story
I met Joepie in 2015. At the time, I was regularly volunteering at the local DARG animal shelter in Cape Town, South Africa. I came across her one morning, as I was visiting the dog kennels. She was skinny, balding, and emotionally withdrawn, taking no interest in me or her excited kennel mates. Her front teeth were broken or missing, with the exception of her canines. She had giant ears and short legs, with the look of a Corgi crossed with a German Shepard.
I found out that she had been rescued from the fishermen’s community of Hangberg, located above Hout Bay Harbour. She had been brought to DARG to be rehabilitated and prepared for adoption. I had been wanting a dog for some time, and I felt compelled to take her home with me. We left the rescue shelter together after I signed the adoption papers.
Joepie’s name came from my childhood, which had been filled with tales and bedtime stories about my father’s younger years, when he had travelled through Europe in a van with a little dog he had picked up in Spain. His dog was named ‘Joepie’ — Dutch for ‘little Joep.’ Despite her being female, it seemed like a good name for her fresh start and our new adventure together.
I clearly remember her change in demeanour as she first arrived at her new home. Although she had been very nervous during the car ride home from the shelter, when I opened the door to the house and she stepped inside, her whole body relaxed, as if she realised she was in a safe place. We were two peas in a pod from that point forward. It took her some time to gain confidence and come into her own — about nine months. We followed a positive reinforcement training program recommended by the behaviouralist at DARG. Over time she transformed into a bright-eyed, full-bellied, energetic dog. She loved people and had an insatiable appetite.
In 2017, I began learning to boulder. For those who are unfamiliar with the activity, this is a type of rock climbing that is done on free-standing boulders without the use of ropes. Since your safety depends on others spotting you while you climb, it’s a very social sport. As my interest in bouldering grew, I started spending almost every weekend exploring the climbing areas in and around Cape Town. Joepie would join me as my ‘crag companion.’ We spent long days in the mountains with friends, we travelled to the Cederberg, we camped in Rocklands, we scrambled, walked and swam. Despite her short legs and chubby physique, Joepie proved to be quite the endurance athlete. We spent as much time in the mountains as we could.
Little did we know, our prized routine would need to change. In March 2020, South Africa entered a two-month hard lockdown in the midst of the pandemic. We were forced to abandon our active mountain routine and were instead confined to our home for almost two months. It took a long time for things to gradually return to normal, and we both lost some of our endurance and fitness. Unfortunately, the isolation of the lockdown period also reduced Joepie’s sociability, and she no longer enjoyed camping trips with other climbers’ dogs. She was given the nickname ‘Vicky Pollard’ by a friend, who found her aggressive behaviour and chunky build comical. We loved her no less, and we adjusted our routine and made the most of our time together locally, where she could get the space she needed.
One long-term benefit of the pandemic, post lockdown, was that I could mostly work from home. Joepie and I could now spend most of our days together and have more mini adventures during the week. Trips to the forest or the beach became a daily treat. Unfortunately, the isolation of the lockdown period reduced Joepie’s sociability, and she no longer enjoyed camping trips with other climbers’ dogs. So we adjusted our routine and made the most of our time together locally.
The seven years I spent with Joepie were meaningful, entertaining, and magical. When I reflect on this period, I am aware of the many valuable lessons I learned. I think that they are worth sharing.
Lesson One: Every day can be your best day, if you allow it to be.
I know it sounds unrealistic, but bear with me.
I had no idea how Joepie would act after she got used to life outside the shelter when I adopted her. Rescued animals typically need some time to reveal their true personality since they need to feel secure in order to do so. I had considered the possibility that she might have some behavioral issues as a result of the trauma she had experienced when she was younger. Instead, I discovered that she seemed to put her past behind her and eagerly anticipate each day.
Despite her early fear of others, Joepie eventually learned to be open and trusting with almost everyone she encountered. She actively sought out social engagement and offered her belly to her newly made friends so they could tickle her. She freely gave and accepted affection and gradually gained complete faith in my ability to look after her.
She seemed to find joy in her daily routine and looked forward to waking up each morning. She would greet her friend Simon the cat, with her tail wagging, and then proceed to the door and ask to be let outside. She appeared to be savoring the moment once she was outside as she stretched, sniffed the grass, and observed her surroundings. I noticed her sitting down occasionally looking off into the horizon as if she were taking in the vista. She would dash back inside as soon as she heard her kibble bag rustling, excited about the prospect of breakfast. It seemed to me that she was making up for lost time, maximizing the delight she could feel every day. She approached everything with such enthusiasm.
I try to keep this approach in mind as a model for a long-term way of life. In the midst of my difficulties, she reminds me that I have a choice in how I approach each new day. It is not always easy or possible, but I try to remember to find joy in the little things, to be present in the moment, and to appreciate the time I have. Even if the circumstances in which I find myself are trying.
Lesson Two: All beings deserve to be happy and free.
Over the course of seven years, I got to know Joepie, and that experience opened my eyes to the depth and emotional range of animals. I felt burdened by the knowledge that she had been subjected to suffering and fear at the hands of people in her early years. I started to reflect as I observed her overcome this setback and flourish, enjoying companionship, joy, wonder, and excitement. I started to doubt some of the conventions that govern how people interact with other creatures and the environment.
What if other animals have this emotional range? Why do we favor dogs and cats as companion animals? Why do people believe they are superior to other animal species? Is the industry of animal agriculture truly acceptable to me if other animals think and feel like Joepie? These are just a few of the questions I began to ponder.
I began an exploration that eventually led me to believe that all beings deserve to be happy and free. Today, I try to make food and lifestyle choices that reflect this belief.
Joepie passed away unexpectedly in April 2022 after rapidly developing issues with her spine. I’ve heard that the stages of grief are similar to moving through a house. You will begin your journey in the foyer, immediately following your loss. This is an interstitial space, where you pause and face the initial shock of what has happened. Then you enter into the heart of the house, a turbulent and chaotic space where you will be confronted with the task of processing your loss.
You will eventually make your way through this area and out the exit door. It may take some time. Ideally, your feelings and memories will have been carefully processed and packaged so that you can store them safely and return to them in the future. The back door will remain ajar, ready to welcome you back inside to reflect and feel what needs to be felt.
Six months later, I’m still working my way through the house. Every day, I think about Joepie. Memories of her pervade my home and every location where we used to hang out. It’s been difficult for me to return to the boulders, beach, and mountains without her, and there are still some places I avoid entirely. I’m working my way through it, savouring the memories and passing on her lessons as best I can.
Every day can be your best day, if you allow it to be ❤
